Love The Light
by philosophyluver
Summary: The lack of love can turn the happiest man bitter.
1. prologue

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter or any of the quotes here.

Prolouge

The world isn't divided into good and bad. We all have light and darkness inside of us. What matters is the path we choose to follow.

It doesn't matter how long we may have been stuck in a sense of our limitations. If we go into a darkened room and turn on the light, it doesn't matter if the room has been dark for a day, a week, or ten thousand years - we turn on the light and it is illuminated. Once we control our capacity for love and happiness, the light has been turned on.


	2. Epiphanies and Actions

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter.

AN- I know this story contains many, many plot holes, so please be kind and tell me, so I can fix it if I can.

The flames could be seen in the distance. The sobbing of the kin of the dead hung heavy in the air. I wondered what it felt like, crying for someone you love. I wondered what it felt like to be loved. But I did have someone to love me. My mother. I was just a tool to my father. The memories about me taunting Potter about having no proper family seemed hypocritical to me. He did have a proper family, many odd, singled-out wizards that loved him till no ends.

With a heavy heart, I walked past the broken stone gargoyles and slipped into my godfather's office. I don't understand why, but my mind willed my legs to walk toward a cupboard. Inside was small glass vials that seemed full of a strange, silvery substance. My attention was drawn toward the ones labeled "Tom Riddle." _Riddle...the name seemed so familiar. Oh yes, Potter called the Dark Lord Riddle before killing him. _But why would that be on a bottle of potion? Once again, the magic seized control. I grabbed a vial, poured it into a stone basin with intricate carvings on the outside, and plunged headfirst into it

I landed into a black-and-white world. I was staring at a 60 year younger Dumbledore! He was wearing a ridiculous purple velvet muggle suit, and standing in front of a gate whose sign said _Wool's Orphanage._ But why would Dumbledore be at an orphanage. I tried to ask him that, but the gray Dumbledore didn't respond. Then, it struck me that I was in a memory. I watched Dumbledore's conversation with Tom Riddle with fascination. As soon as the memory ended, I grabbed another vial labeled like and watched Voldemort's story with contempt. I had begun to see the similarities between me and him.

We were both unloved or under loved. We both took the role of bullies to try and make ourselves look intimidating, complete with servants to convince ourselves that we had friends. I realized that we both desperately needed someone special in our lives.

Voices brought me out of my epiphany. I quickly ducked behind a wardrobe to avoid being seen. The voices turned out to be those of Potter, Granger, and Weasley. They were talking in snippets about something I couldn't understand.

I snuck out after they left, and apparated to the ministry of magic. The Ministry was deserted, as everyone had traveled to Hogwarts after hearing the news. I marched straight to the Time Room, and grabbed all the Time-Turners there were. I drew a large hourglass with my wand, broke open the Time-Turners and poured them sand into the glass. Grunting with effort, I turned my homemade Time-Turner 7 times. I don't know why seven. Perhaps it was instinct. A feeling familiar to that of a portkey seized me, and I landed, once again, in the time room. Quickly, I put _reducto _ on the hourglass, before any of the employees could see me. "Sorry," I grumbled, " Floo powder." Luckily I landed near the fireplace, so the lie was believable.

"Get going kid," an old, wizened man barked at me.

"Yes sir," I said with a mock salute and ran out of the room. Before leaving the building, I got my hands on a copy of the _Daily Prophet. _The year stated 1936. Perfect. If my calculations were correct, Voldemort would be ten years old today. _Not Voldemort, _my conscience firmly stated, _Tom._I pictured in my mind the gate I saw in the memory, and vanished.


End file.
